


The Great Wolf and the Pale Serpent

by lady_simoriah



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vikings, Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Prophecy, Ragnarok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:00:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21764149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_simoriah/pseuds/lady_simoriah
Summary: On a quest for revenge, Dean encounters someone long lost to him and jump starts a prophecy that will bring about the end of the world.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 22





	The Great Wolf and the Pale Serpent

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Reverse Bang 2019 on LiveJournal based on the art The Pale Serpent by soluscheese who has been my biggest support and cheerleader over the past month. May these words do your artwork justice. :)

The rasp of wood on stone grated against Dean’s ears as he pushed the hulking mass forward toward the shore. His teeth chattered in the cold and his feet were soaked with the sea’s spray the further he pressed against the edge where land and water met. Gradually stone was replaced by the gentle lapping of waves against the side and Dean drew his hands away, letting the open sea take the burden from him. He backpedaled quickly, eager to get away from the frosty fingers of the water’s edge for fear of ending up a corpse himself. He strode over to the torch he’d left burning, speared into the ground, and collected the bow and quiver of arrows. 

He drew out the arrow he’d prepared the night before, the tip soaked in oil and wrapped in linen that would ignite as soon as it met the torch flame. He drew in a deep breath and offered up a silent prayer that his father would be welcomed at the gates of Valhalla as he nocked the arrow on the bow before bringing the tip in contact with the torch. The arrow ignited and Dean just barely had enough time to fire it at the deck of the boat as it sailed out to sea. He sighed with relief as the arrow landed on the oiled fabric and caught the entire vessel ablaze, body and all. He stood on the shore, icy wind biting his cheeks almost raw as he watched the flames dance against the indigo sky. He’d forced himself to keep the tears at bay since he’d found his father’s body but as the knowledge that he was well and truly alone now wrapped around him like the cloak of night he couldn’t help the single tear that rolled down his cheek. 

“I won’t fail you,” he whispered. “I will find who did this and they will pay. I swear it.”

He stared into the fire and felt his heart harden like the stones beneath his feet as he shouldered his bow and hefted the torch from the ground. He spared the burning boat one last look before turning away and piercing his way through the darkness.

***

“How much further _seiðmenn_?”

“Patience, _hermaðr._ ”

Dean ducked his head to disguise the smirk that twisted his lips at the Benny’s disgruntled growl. He couldn’t say he blamed the man despite how amused he was at the frustration that rolled off him in waves. He lifted his gaze from watching the two men ahead of him to the naked sparse boughs above, seeking some sign that they were making progress. They’d entered the woods several sunrises ago and based on his guide’s promises, he’d expected they would have reached the home of this great sorcerer the man had spoken of.

“I am slowly running out of patience, _argr_.”

“ _Argr_? Takes one to know one. You forget yourself, _miklimunnr_.”

The sound of bodies colliding with each other and the grunts of the two men drew Dean’s gaze from the woods and skies and to the small skirmish that had broken out.

“Both of you, stop,” he demanded.

He pushed between the two men and stared them both down, noting how the warrior’s hand had fallen to his sword and the guide was wielding his staff like he meant to do harm.

“He started it…”

Dean watched the large warrior storm off ahead leaving him alone with their guide then shook his head as he turned his attention to the man beside him.

“You shouldn’t poke the bear, Castiel.”

“He’s fortunate that all I do is poke, if I were truly angry he’d likely be a bear for the rest of his days.”

“You wouldn’t…”

Dean tried to hide the way he swallowed at the daring quirk of Castiel’s brow and slight curl of his lips.

“You would, remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“Unlike our friend, I don’t see that ever happening.”

Dean watched as Castiel lowered his staff and gave a gentle smile before he headed off in the general direction their comrade had gone. He shook his head and moved to follow though he kept just a slight bit back in case something or someone decided to ambush them. He picked up the pace though and saw Castiel take off at a run when a pained low bellow echoed back through the woods.

“Benny!”

He wasn’t sure what he expected when they finally caught up to the man but seeing him laid out flat on his back on the ground was far from it. Dean pulled his axe from his belt and held it ready; searching the woods for what could’ve knocked a man as burly as Benny was off his feet.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, one moment I was just walking through the woods then all of a sudden I hit something and it was like I’d been broadsided by Mjolnir,” responded Benny.

Dean cautiously moved to help Benny to his feet while still keeping watch for trouble.

“Cas?”

“Shhhh…”

He watched Castiel walk forward, hand outstretched and eyes closed like he was feeling around in the air for something. He knew the moment Castiel found it by the way the air seemed to shimmer like mist rolling in off the sea and tiny sparks danced near his fingertips.

**“Leave now!”**

The deep booming voice resonated in Dean’s head like a drum and he stumbled back from the invisible wall that Castiel had found. He glanced at the other two and saw that Benny had also staggered back while Castiel had remained right where he was.

“Who said that?” growled Benny. “Show yourself!”

**“Leave NOW!”**

Dean felt the axe slip from his fingers as he instinctively lifted his hands in what was a likely futile effort to dampen the volume of the voice echoing in his head.

“We need your help,” protested Castiel. “I promised…”

 **“You’ve brought danger here,”** boomed the voice. **“You cannot go any further. Leave!”**

“I’ll show ‘im danger,” snarled Benny.

“Benny, don’t!”

Dean’s words were too late and he grimaced as he watched the warrior be flung backward again by whatever warding they’d encountered. He rushed to the man’s side, helping him sit up slowly. He shifted his focus to Castiel when he felt the ground shake beneath them as his staff tapped the ground.

“Enough! I made a promise and I mean to keep it. Let me pass and we can talk.”

Silence reigned in the wake of Castiel’s demand and at first Dean wondered if they’d pushed too far and would end up cursed or worse. The resonating voice in his head didn’t return but there was a loud pop just before Castiel took a step forward. He braced himself for Castiel to be thrown back just like Benny had but it appeared that the owner of the voice had accepted Castiel’s terms. He scrambled to his feet and moved to follow Castiel, wanting to protect his friend from harm. The last thing he knew was Castiel and Benny yelling at him before pain seared through his body and blackness consumed him.

***

Castiel watched helplessly as Dean was flung back from the barrier that had snapped back into place as soon as he’d passed through. He shifted back further into the trees as Benny approached Dean’s unconscious body knowing that the warrior wouldn’t be distracted for long seeing to their friend’s welfare. He could see Benny’s mouth moving and he could almost imagine the bellowed curses coming from them but any and all other sound was muted by the warding.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he muttered.

 _ **“I can’t afford to be nice,”**_ huffed the familiar voice in his head. _**“He’s stupid and reckless as he ever was…”**_

Castiel’s lips curved in a wry smile as he watched Benny help Dean up before finally turning fully into the woods, the warding serving to help hide his movements. He could feel the thrum of magic all around him now as he used his staff to pick his way through the trees toward his destination.

 _“He’s desperate,”_ he responded, using their telepathic link for the first time in years.

_**He’s a fool.”** _

_“Takes one to know one.”_

He could almost feel the glower directed his way in response to his words but like it or not he knew he was right. The forest grew more lush and verdant the closer he got and the warmth that suffused his body when he finally reached the small cabin was most welcome after the many weeks spent trudging through the bitter cold of winter.

“You’re lucky I don’t smite you for that, old friend,” drawled the tall, broad figure standing in the doorway.

“You haven’t yet,” countered Castiel. “And I somehow doubt you plan on starting now.”

Coy dimples left deep indents in the young man’s cheeks as a broad smile split his face, his hazel eyes twinkling as Castiel approached.

“It’s been a long time, Castiel, too long.”

“I would’ve been here sooner if you hadn’t spun us around in circles out there.”

“You felt that, huh?”

“From time to time, yes. The warding was the final give away though I don’t recall it being quite so strong.”

The warm smile that had greeted him faded from view and Castiel found himself wishing he hadn’t mentioned the increase in defenses.

“Times have changed.”

The words hung between them as Castiel closed the distance, noting how haggard his friend and mentor looked.

“Sam…”

“Inside,” he said, gesturing to the door. “We need to talk.”

***

Dean stared off into the darkness in the direction he’d last seen Castiel go as he warmed his hands by the crackling fire.

“He’s not coming back.”

Dean pulled his gaze from the dark woods to the man sitting beside him glowering in the same direction that Dean had just been staring in.

“He will.”

“And just how long are you willing to believe that?” retorted Benny. “Because I don’t trust him or any folk like him. People who mess with stuff like that...with magic...tend to come to sticky ends.”

Dean frowned and allowed his gaze to be drawn back to the woods, staring off toward a point he wasn’t sure was even really there. He’d been knocked out when he’d hit the barrier but while he’d been unconscious he’d seen something, felt something...familiar. He’d been puzzling over it ever since while Benny had made camp for them on the off chance that Castiel would return soon. He shifted his body to sit more easily against the hard bark of the tree and forced back a grimace at the aches from the bruises he’d sustained when he’d been flung back. He closed his eyes briefly then reopened them, staring through the fire at the air that seemed to shift and move just a few feet away like a sail in a stiff breeze.

“As long as it takes,” he rasped. 

He smiled wryly at the harrumphed grunt from Benny but despite the man’s displeasure and distrust, he had a feeling the warrior wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

***

Sam noted the way Castiel leaned his staff against the door frame and shed his cloak in deference to the warmth before taking a seat at the table as if this was just a courtesy call. He could feel the weight of his old friend’s gaze as he purposefully busied himself playing the proper host, fetching mugs and a stiff drink for the both of them. 

“So…”

“So what?”

“We’re inside, let’s talk,” stated Castiel matter-of-factly. “What are you trying to keep out with those wards?”

Sam’s lips twisted in a weak smile as he placed a full mug in front of the other mage, admiring Castiel’s insistence on getting straight to the point. He moved to sit opposite Castiel and took a drink from his own mug, needing the fortification if they were going to have this discussion.

“Demons.”

He flinched back as Castiel nearly spewed his first sip of drink in his face then reached for a nearby cloth to wipe it away.

“That’s not possible, she said…”

“I know what she said, Cas,” he huffed. “She was wrong, they both were...and it cost them.”

Sam watched Castiel’s face go from disbelief to outright shock and grief as what he’d said registered.

“No...they can’t…”

“Gabriel’s dead...Rowena…”

Sam shook his head and took another deep drink of the draught in his mug.

“If she’s not, she might as well be or else she’s gone into hiding.”

“So we’re all that’s left then?”

“As far as I know. At least the only ones left in this part of the world.”

They sat and drank in silence and it wasn’t until Sam got up to pour them each another round that Castiel spoke up again.

“Were you there?”

“No, I came home one day and found a couple of them skulking around my place. I killed one outright, the other one...well, after I was done with him I figured paying a visit to the old home was wise. I was too late.”

He stared into his empty mug and fought down the flood of emotions that talking about that day brought back. There’d been almost nothing left to salvage of the cabin he’d called home for many years. He’d found Gabriel’s body but there’d been no sign of Rowena other than the torn clothes scattered across the floor. After scouring the house for anything of importance that the demons hadn’t made off with, he’d burned the place to the ground with his mentor inside.

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

He lifted his gaze from his mug to meet Castiel’s ice blue one, his friend’s presence pulling him back to the here and now.

“My turn to ask a question,” he drawled, casting off his more maudlin thoughts. “What fool’s errand brings you back into my corner of the world?”

“It’s not a fool’s errand,” huffed Castiel. “I saw someone in need of help and I offered my services. That’s all.”

“Cas…”

“He’s looking for his father’s killer and I told him you would be able to tell him who did it so that he could get revenge.”

Sam’s blood ran cold and the mug in his hands clattered to the table as he processed Castiel’s words. A thousand thoughts and visions he’d struggled to understand whirled through his mind before he finally pushed to his feet and turned away from the table.

“Sam...Sam?”

_‘Dead. John Winchester is dead.’_

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and dug his fingers into his palms almost hard enough to draw blood. Those four words battered at his mind on repeat until a hand on his shoulder caused him to snap out of it.

“I can’t...I can’t help him,” he rasped.

“What...what do you mean you can’t help him?”

“I just can’t.”

He pulled away from Castiel’s hand on his shoulder and headed toward the door, hoping perhaps that his friend would be gone by the time he returned.

“Can’t or won’t?” sneered Castiel. “I know you, Sam.”

Sam stilled then turned to stare down Castiel, hating the way the man looked at him expectantly, how it reminded him of when they’d been students together.

“No, you don’t, Cas, you don’t know me at all.”

_‘And if you did, you’d hate me.’_

“I promised him, Sam.”

“I know, Castiel. I saw it.”

“Then why…”

“Because he’s my brother, Cas. And I’m endangering him and you and the whole damn world by even considering being in the same place as him.”

Sam watched Castiel’s eyes go wide then narrow as he closed the distance between them.

“You would forfeit the only family you have left in this world over a prophecy?”

The words were like stones pelting him, every one hitting their mark but Sam forced himself to stand firm and not let his old friend move him.

“I have no choice.”

“You do have a choice, you can choose to remain a hermit in the woods or you can get out there and help your brother avenge your family, avenge our family.”

“You don’t understand…”

“No, I don’t, never did,” huffed Castiel. “How many times did Gabriel say we’d been given the gift of magic for a reason? That we were blessed by Odin to have the ability to see what others couldn’t.”

“More curse than blessing, Cas,” sighed Sam. “There are things I’ve seen that I wish Odin had never granted me the power to.”

He stepped around Castiel and busied himself with cleaning up the mess that’d been left by his dropped mug. He could feel the weight of Castiel’s gaze bearing down on his back and he fought the urge to turn and look at him, not wanting to face the frustration he could feel radiating out in waves.

“If you refuse to help him find these things, these...demons, then I will.”

Sam’s lips pulled into a tense line and his head hung heavily over the table, his hands stilled and he swallowed hard.

“Cas…”

“I’m not going to let him face this threat alone, Sam. I’ve...”

Sam could feel a tightness in his chest that matched the unspoken emotion he could feel from Castiel. He pushed upright and turned to face his friend, staring down into the cool depths of his eyes. He knew Castiel was right but the prophecy that’d haunted him since he’d been a child loomed large in the back of his mind.

“Please, Cas, don’t do this.”

They stared each other down across the room but ultimately it was Sam that flung aside the rag he’d been using to clean the table with a muttered curse. He glared at the way Castiel’s lips pulled into a smug smile and flipped the hood of his jerkin up, tugging it forward in the hopes of obscuring his face. He summoned his staff to his hand, his fingers curling firmly around the gnarled wood as he headed for the door.

“Are you coming?” he snapped.

He shoved the door open and could hear Castiel clambering to fetch his staff before following him out the door. It took Castiel a few strides to catch up but he could feel the moment the other mage was beside him.

“You can’t tell him, Cas,” he murmured as they walked. “I don’t care what happens; you can’t tell him who I am.”

“Sam…”

“Promise me, Cas.”

Through the trees, Sam could smell the wood smoke from the dying fire up ahead and he came to a sudden halt just before they reached the end of the wards and reached out to force Castiel to do the same.

“Castiel.”

He glanced to the side, noting the way his friend was glaring at him mutinously.

“I promise,” he spat, as though each word pained him.

Sam nodded and dropped his hold on Castiel’s cloak then took a deep breath before stepping forward and out of the woods.

***

The woods, which had been unwelcome enough in daylight, had long since cloaked themselves in the darkness of night by the time Dean first heard anything from the direction Castiel had vanished in. He feigned sleep at first; wanting to make sure he wasn’t just hearing the scurrying of forest creatures, but as the sound of footfalls grew more distinct he found himself staring off into the darkness again. He didn’t wake Benny but he did draw the small axe from beneath his pillow in readiness for the possibility of the noises not being Castiel at all. He watched as the shimmer of the barrier seemed to dissipate before two figures finally emerged from the woods and approached where he and Benny had made camp. He got to his feet slowly, axe firmly in hand and ready to confront the newcomers. A few muttered words from the taller of the two figures and the fire which had been dying out to embers roared to life again, illuminating the clearing and revealing that Castiel had returned.

“Put that away, you won’t be needing it.”

Dean scowled at the hooded man beside Castiel, recognizing the voice from both when they’d been warned away and from when he’d hit the barrier.

“Can’t be too careful these days,” he sneered.

He tossed the axe in the air a couple of times, each time catching it handily before finally tucking it into his belt.

“Show off.”

Dean simply responded to the hooded man’s muttering with a smug smirk which drew a chuckle from Castiel.

“Could say the same for you, _seiðmenn_ , not exactly living up to your reputation thus far.”

“Dean, I seem to recall you saying something earlier about not poking bears…” warned Castiel.

“My apologies, Cas.”

He eyed Castiel’s tall companion warily and tried to catch a glimpse of what lay beneath the hood. From where he stood, all he could see were high cheekbones and a long, sloped nose bordered by a beauty mark on one side. Rather than a full beard, the man’s jaw was stubbled as though he’d taken the risk of shaving that morning and was only just starting to regrow his beard. He wished he could see the man’s eyes but with the way his head was tipped down they were well out of his view.

“You and your friends have trespassed on my lands,” stated the man in a haughty tone. “Castiel has explained why but I would like to hear what you have to say for yourself since apparently you’re the leader of this fool’s errand.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed and his gaze flicked to Castiel briefly before returning to the hooded man.

“My father is dead and I seek vengeance on those who did it,” he responded.

“I am sorry for your loss, but I fail to see why you require my help.”

Dean swallowed hard and his fingers clenched into fists at his sides as he recalled the sight that had greeted him after coming home from yet another raid.

“They weren’t...the...things that killed him, they weren’t mortal men.”

The hut had been ransacked, linens sliced through, trunks flung open, furs and leathers shredded. Dishes had shattered on the floor and his father’s shield had dangled from its pride of place near the door with a crack clean through it. The man hadn’t gone down without a fight, that much had been sure but whatever they were, they were too strong or too many for John Winchester and he’d fallen in battle.

“His wounds weren’t from axes or swords but from claws,” added Dean. “They tore him open and they took his heart with them.”

Silence stretched between them save for the crackle of the wood on the fire but Dean could sense his words had resonated with the mage by the way his lips had pulled into a tight line.

“They were _úlfheðnar_ , wearers of wolf skins, more animal than man.”

“ _Úlfheðnar_ don’t exist,” snorted Benny. “They’re monsters made up to keep little children in their huts at night. Sort of like wizards and witches and fortune tellers.”

Dean blinked and his gaze cut to where Benny was sitting on his blanket practically sneering at Castiel and his hooded companion. He glanced back at the hooded man who began to move toward Benny, staff raised threateningly.

“You’d be wise to mind your tongue, berserker, for I have seen things that would give even someone who has shed as much blood as you nightmares.”

Dean’s eyes widened as Benny let out an almost unearthly growl and lunged up at the hooded mage with a knife clutched in his hand. He rushed forward, grabbing at Benny to pull him back even as the mage used his staff to block the trajectory of the knife.

“Don’t you dare call me that, you _argr_ ,” snarled Benny. “You know nothing about me.”

“I know that if it weren’t for you, neither one of your companions would’ve made it out of that village,” retorted the mage. “I know that the reason you were at that inn was because you’re the last of your family and will remain so until your dying day.”

Dean felt Benny go rigid in his arms at the hooded man’s words but he didn’t release his friend for fear that same wild rage would come over him again. He watched the man’s long fingers move to encircle Benny’s thick wrist and felt Benny begin to tremble so slightly that had Dean not been holding him he wouldn’t have known anything was wrong.

“Don’t...don’t....” ground out Benny.

The trembling grew stronger to a point where Dean wasn’t sure if he could continue to hold the warrior. He could hear the hooded man muttering something under his breath and could see the way the skin around where he was holding onto Benny was turning red as though it was being held over a fire.

“Stop! You’re hurting him,” demanded Dean.

He could see how Benny was fighting back the urge to show just how much pain he was in but eventually it reached a point where his entire face was a mask of sheer agony. Dean released his hold on Benny who crumpled almost to the ground, knife falling from his hand where it’d been jarred loose by the shift in position. He grabbed at the mage’s arm and elbowed him in the chest, knocking him back and breaking his hold on Benny. The two of them staggered back and the hood that obscured the man’s face fell back to reveal brown hair and a pair of slanted hazel eyes that captured Dean’s attention almost immediately. He felt the air abandon his lungs and the world grew dizzyingly small for a moment before everything went black again.

*

The first thing that registered to Dean’s senses as his consciousness slowly returned was warmth, an almost oppressive warmth but a welcome one after so many nights spent sleeping on the hard ground in the cold forest. He tried to burrow down into that warmth and take refuge in the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness but the sound of raised voices arguing pushed that option further and further away. He cracked open his eyes, peering out from beneath lashes at the room in which he’d ended up. He could see Castiel pacing back and forth, talking and gesticulating at the man from the woods who had dropped his hood but still had his back turned to Dean. He shifted his slitted gaze to the crackling fire before returning his attention to the argument going on across the room.

“Castiel, we’ve been over this…”

“You have to tell him, it’s not right to keep it from him.”

“I can’t and neither can you. He’s better off not knowing.”

“How do you know that? How can you say that?”

“I just...I just know.”

Dean frowned as he listened to the argument wondering who they were talking about. He opened his eyes and sat up slightly from where he’d been resting under a pile of furs.

“Easy there, chief,” murmured Benny. “You took a rather bad hit back there.”

Dean settled back down somewhat and twisted his head to look up at where Benny was sitting beside his bed. He didn’t fail to miss how tired the warrior looked nor the way part of his arm was now wrapped in bandages.

“Benny…” he began softly.

“Shhhh, I’m alright, Castiel patched me right up. I’ll be good as new before you know it.”

Dean sighed heavily and allowed his head to rest more naturally on the pillow which brought his attention back to the feud going on across the room.

“They been at it for long?”

“Ever since we got here, not sure what the fight is about but…”

Dean hummed slightly under his breath and quieted in the hopes of finding out the answer to that himself. The déjà vu feeling that’d been niggling at him since smacking into the shield wall was pestering him even more now that he’d actually come in contact with the mage. He watched the way the firelight danced across the highlights in his dark brown hair while listening in on the argument between the two men.

“So you’re going to cast us all back out into the wilderness over some feeling, some godforsaken prophecy?”

“Once he’s well enough to travel, yes. What happened back there is proof enough that I’m right about this, Cas.”

“And what if you’re wrong? What then?”

“That’s why he has you...and the berserker. You must do what I can’t.”

“You mean what you won’t,” ground out Castiel. “You can and you should but you won’t because you choose to believe that your fate is written in stone.”

The hair on the back of Dean’s neck rose and he could feel goosebumps pebble along his limbs as though lightning was close by. He pushed back the furs cautiously and sat up despite Benny trying to keep him lying down.

“Castiel…don’t...I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I’ve seen enough death for a thousand lifetimes; I don’t need more blood on my hands.”

Dean could feel the magic crackling in the air like a genuinely tangible thing he could reach out and touch as he got to his feet. 

“You will have more blood on your hands if you send us out there alone,” countered Castiel. “Can you live with that? With knowing you have condemned me to death? Condemned your own brother to die at the hands of those monsters?”

“Enough!”

Dean sucked in a breath and he could faintly hear a low growl from behind him as he watched the mage pin Castiel to the wall by his throat. He found himself flashing back to the campsite, to the way the man had grabbed ahold of Benny and had injured him. He also remembered how the magic had blown him back and knocked him out until he’d woken up here. He desperately wanted to intervene but was terrified that if he did, the blow back from the magic would kill him this time. His gaze locked on Castiel’s as his friend struggled to pry the mage’s fingers from around his neck.

“Sam...Sam, stop...please…” rasped Castiel.

“Sam?”

***

Sam’s heartbeat pounded in his ears as he pinned Castiel to the wall of his hut. He could feel the same darkness that’d consumed him at the campsite writhing through his veins like a serpent. He didn’t want to kill Cas, just scare him enough that he would take Dean and the berserker, Benny, and go but that hope was dashed the moment he heard his brother’s voice behind him speak his name. He glared at Castiel even as he loosened his grip, forcing the magic back into its cage. He kept his face turned away, not wanting to look at Dean for fear that if he did, he’d never be able to watch his brother leave.

“Sam?”

He flinched back when he heard first one footstep then another as his brother approached him.

“Stay back,” he warned.

He couldn’t say he was surprised when Dean didn’t heed his warning, not after the way his brother had acted at the camp when Benny was in pain and now here with Castiel. He could feel the magic inside of him churning and twisting like a frustrated animal, angry at being caged and he was afraid at first that he would lash out at Dean if he came any closer. Instead he was taken aback by the way it all seemed to ebb away the moment Dean’s hand found his shoulder. He turned slowly and somewhat unwillingly to face the man that he’d only seen in mirrors up until that day. He stared down into his brother’s glass green eyes and felt his chest go tight with feelings he didn’t dare give voice to. It was bad enough that Dean knew his name, knew they were brothers; he didn’t need to know that the same darkness that’d forced him to leave still lurked in his heart.

“How? How is this possible?” rasped Dean. “I don’t understand.”

“Dean…”

“Don’t...I…”

Sam swallowed hard as he watched his brother’s face go from soft and confused to something that reminded him more of their father’s hardened warrior face. He felt Dean’s hand begin to slip away from his shoulder and grabbed at it, not wanting to lose that point of contact when the magic was still so restless inside.

“Dean...please…”

“This...this is impossible. You’re supposed to be dead, he told me you’d run away out into the forest and been killed by a pack of wolves.”

“I didn’t…”

“I can see that but how...I don’t...I can’t…”

“Neither could dad, he saw…”

“Saw what?”

Sam felt the magic in him roar back to life as Dean’s grip on his hand tightened to the point of being painful. He sucked in a deep breath, shoving the unruly force back down in an effort not to hurt his brother.

“Did he see us? Is that what happened? Is that why you left?”

“Dean...stop…”

He knew exactly the moment Dean was worried about their Dad seeing and why. It was a moment that frequently crossed his mind when he was scrying for Dean because it was a memory rife with deep emotions. He squeezed his eyes shut as though to shut out the flood of thoughts and feelings that the mere mention of that moment dredged up.

“Sam...Sammy, talk to me…”

“No!”

He yanked his hand free of Dean’s and stormed toward the door, unable to fully contain the magic while in his brother’s presence. He stretched out his hand and blew the door off its hinges before escaping out into the darkness. He could hear voices behind him, yelling at him but he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. He’d just barely cleared the first line of trees that surrounded his hut when he felt a body slam into his own, knocking him to the ground.

“I’m not letting you run away from me again, dammit,” snarled Dean. “I’ve spent too many days thinking you were dead and that I was alone in this godforsaken world to let you out of my sight.”

Sam rolled from his front to his back and glared up at Dean, magic sizzling through his veins like lightning through the clouds.

“You don’t understand what you’re dealing with,” he ground out.

“I don’t care!”

"Then you're crazy...or a fool...or both!"

“As if I haven’t heard that from everyone enough already, I don’t need to hear it from you,” scoffed Dean. “Not after you’ve left me thinking you were dead all these years!”

“And I would’ve stayed dead to you if Cas hadn’t brought you here, hadn’t opened his godforsaken mouth.”

He knew he’d made a mistake the moment the words left his mouth but it was too late for Sam to take them back. He hoped Castiel would forgive him but he had a feeling there would be even more bridges to be mended before the night was out.

“Cas knew? And didn’t tell me?” mused Dean, his shoulders slumped and head bowed before he raised his gaze to Sam once more, eyes narrowing. “Or did you force him not to tell?”

Sam swallowed hard feeling pinned under his brother’s unwavering gaze. He knew he could lie and try to place every ounce of blame at Castiel’s feet but he couldn’t get the words to come. Nor could he bring himself to admit to having tried to keep his identity secret in the hopes that Dean would pass in and out of his life without ever knowing he still lived. He backed away then turned, unable to face the harsh scrutiny of Dean’s anger. For a brief moment he thought that perhaps Dean would let him go, that the shared betrayal would satisfy his brother but the crunch of leaves and twigs underneath heavy footfalls followed by Dean grasping his shoulder and spinning him back around proved him wrong.

“Don’t you dare turn your back on me!” snarled Dean. “You don’t get to do that twice!”

Sam felt the magic surge under his skin again in response to both his and Dean’s anger which bled through where his hand rested on Sam’s shoulder. He felt it travel down through his arm as he reached up to knock Dean’s hand away and felt a sick sense of satisfaction at the yelp that escaped his brother’s lips as the power streaked from his hand to Dean’s arm forcing him to retreat.

“Don’t touch me!” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“Sonofa...that hurt you asshole!” snapped Dean, “Can’t believe you’d be heartless enough to use that magic crap on me.”

“I tried to warn you,” retorted Sam. “Touch me again and you’ll see just how much of a heartless monster I am.”

“You are so full of shit.”

Sam wasn’t quite prepared for the way Dean lunged at him when he called him out. He staggered back, allowing Dean to propel him up against a nearby tree. He caught a brief flash of silver and realized his brother had pulled a knife which just served to amp up the magic that was already crackling through his body to dangerous levels. He allowed it to flow through him and forced it out in a solid burst of energy that sent Dean sprawling back against the forest floor, knife spinning away and lost amongst the leaves.

 _‘Game on,’_ he thought as he stormed forward, catching his big brother up by the front of his jerkin and shoving him up against another nearby tree, spitting and squirming.

“By rights I should kill you for that,” he sneered.

“I’d like to see you try,” ground out Dean.

Sam’s fingers twisted in the fabric of Dean’s tunic almost hard enough to rend the fabric in two. He knew he could do it, that he was powerful enough to back up his words. He couldn’t bring himself to do it though. He didn’t want his brother dead, he just wanted him to leave before someone realized they’d found each other. He grunted as Dean broke his hold and shoved him back angrily sending him sprawling back into the leaves.

“You’ve never been able to beat me, Sammy.”

Sam glared at his brother as he got to his feet, shedding his hooded coat and dusting the bits of forest floor from his trews and tunic.

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped. “I’m not the scrawny little boy you remember, not anymore.”

In hindsight he should’ve seen the punch coming but instead his brother’s fist connected squarely with his jaw, splitting his lip and drawing the first blood of the night. Pain bloomed and Sam recoiled back, his hand coming up to protect his face from further assault. He could taste the metallic tang of blood on his tongue from where it was seeping from his lip and spit it out on the ground as he stared his brother down.

“Don’t make me hurt you,” he sneered.

“M’not afraid of you, brother.”

Sam barely had time to recover from Dean’s opening punch before his brother surged forward and tackled him to the forest floor. He grunted as the wind was knocked out of his lungs but he rolled to the side and lashed out with a kick to his brother’s ribs in return before Dean could fully pin him down. He winced as what almost felt like an echo of his brother’s pain jolted his body but that didn’t stop him from lashing out with his elbow when Dean grabbed him and tried to reel him back in. They rolled on the forest floor, tearing and clawing at each other, landing punches and trying to seek out soft spots that would give them a reprieve, a chance to escape the pain. Their labored breathing echoed off the trees mixed with grunts and pained bellows when a kick landed in a weak spot. 

Sweat beaded on Sam’s brow and he knew there were likely bits of the forest floor caught up in the fabric of his clothes and his hair from the way they’d been tussling. He fought the urge to cringe at the sight of a cut just above Dean’s eyebrow that was beading up with blood and when he moved to swipe at his own face he hissed in a breath as he found one of his own along his cheekbone. His lungs burned and his whole body ached as he struggled to just keep fighting. He hadn’t wrestled like this since his childhood with Dean and it showed in the way his breathing was laboring. When he swung and missed his brother’s face by a mile, he knew he was fading and the sharp kick Dean landed to his gut didn’t help matters either. He wasn’t willing to accept defeat though when it was both their fates on the line so he finally did the only thing he could. 

He planted one hand firmly on the ground and drew magic from within and without to have enough strength to lash out one last time. He flung his hand out toward Dean as his brother closed the distance between them and propelled him back until he was pressed up against the thickest oak in the grove. He held him there, pinned up against the bark, as he slowly got to his feet and crossed to stand in front of his brother. He could feel Dean’s frustration radiating off him in waves and bark fell to the ground from the way his brother struggled to try and break free. Sam stared him down, trying to mask his exhaustion with cool detachment.

“Do you yield?” he hissed.

The growl that rumbled up through his brother’s chest and vibrated through Sam’s where it was practically pressed up against Dean’s sent chills down his spine along with the defiant gleam in his brother’s eyes.

“Never,” snarled Dean.

Sam knew deep down that he should take that as his cue to leave, to abandon Dean here pinned to the trees and vanish back into the forest that he called home. Instead he found himself unable to move, lost in the memory of another sparring match long ago where he’d been both winner and loser at the same time. He could feel Dean’s breath fanning against his aching jaw and could smell the loamy scent of the woods and the smoky scent of the fire rolling off him in waves. He leaned in closer, inhaling that scent, memorizing it as his lips brushed against his brother’s stubbled jaw. He knew he was tempting fate by even considering it but he had to know, after all these years. His eyes slipped closed as his lips brushed against Dean’s ever so lightly before puckering into a tight lipped kiss.

That kiss was short lived as Dean jerked back, a grunt escaping him when his head collided with the tree behind him. Sam’s eyes snapped open and he found himself staring down into his brother’s verdant green eyes as they searched his face. The magic that’d been pulsing through his veins just moments before seemed to ebb away like water draining from a punctured bucket and Sam was unsurprised when Dean’s hands came up to grasp at his tunic. He half expected his brother to shove him away and to be honest he wouldn’t have blamed him for doing so. His lips parted to say something, to apologize, only to wind up letting out a low grunt of his own when Dean yanked him forward. Pain jolted through him as his mouth crashed into Dean’s, his brother’s teeth raking against his split lip. A low groan broke from his throat as Dean’s tongue pushed past his lips and he reached out, grasping at his brother’s hip to steady himself as his body swayed forward into the vee of Dean’s legs. He swallowed his brother’s moan in return as their bodies rocked against each other instinctively seeking the rough friction of fabric and flesh.

“Dean…” he exhaled huskily when their lips broke apart for a moment to steal a breath.

“Shut up,” growled Dean.

His brother’s lips gave Sam little opportunity to protest Dean’s demand, slanting against his own once more in a heated kiss. He clutched at his brother’s hip with one hand, fingers digging into linen even as his knuckles were abraded by the bark of the tree behind Dean. His other hand moved to cradle his brother’s head, thumb smoothing over the bare flesh and tracing the curve of his ear. He was caught off guard by Dean’s low growl and the way his brother knocked his hand aside to wind up clutching at Dean’s shoulder instead.

“Don’t…” rasped Dean against his lips.

Sam swallowed hard and he felt a pang of longing in his chest but he understood what Dean was getting at. This wasn’t about love and tenderness to his brother, it was simply a way to slake the unrelenting need that’d been stirred by their fighting. He nipped hard at Dean’s lower lip in response and shoved his brother back more firmly against the tree. If brutality was what Dean wanted, it was what he would get. He chased his brother’s mouth, tugging and nipping at his lips until they were full and rosy red with the abuse and his hand that’d fallen to Dean’s shoulder moved to clutch at his tunic. He groaned thickly as he shifted his hips where they’d settled against Dean’s, feeling the unmistakable ridge of his brother’s length through the fabric. He shifted from Dean’s lips to his jaw, biting at the bearded flesh and letting the hair abrade his lips as he began to grind up against his brother.

“Is this what you want?” he panted between nips and kisses.

“Sam…”

Sam took that as a yes and continued his mouth’s journey up along the sharp jut of Dean’s jaw till he reached his ear. He tugged lightly at the silver hoop in his brother’s ear, relishing the sharp inhale of pain mixed with the soft moans of pleasure that he’d felt Dean try to muffle against his shoulder. He let out a yelp when his brother bit at the meat of his shoulder and shuddered when Dean didn’t let go right away.

“S’real, Dean,” he rasped against his brother’s ear. “Don’t have to pinch me to prove it.”

He just about choked on a groan when Dean brought his hand down on his ass hard causing his hips to jerk forward haphazardly.

“So fuckin’ dirty,” muttered Dean.

Sam sucked in a breath when his brother landed another firm smack on his already burning ass cheek then bit down on the lobe of Dean’s ear in return. He sucked at the tender flesh to ease some of the sting then shifted his attention lower to suck and nip at the hinge of Dean’s jaw.

“You like it dirty, I know you,” he murmured, kissing back up to Dean’s ear before adding in a low whisper like he was sharing a secret. “I’ve seen you.”

He felt Dean go rigid in his arms and there was a part of him that went straight to the idea that he’d said too much, admitted too much. He stared down into Dean’s face as his brother leaned back to look at him.

“You...you’ve been watching me?”

Sam nodded and felt his cheeks heat as he recalled some of the more compromising positions he’d caught Dean in over the years, some more recent than others. 

“How long?”

“Years.”

“Years?!?” echoed Dean incredulously.

Sam grunted and leaned back slightly to evade another smack to his chest from Dean.

“You ass, you fuckin’ ass,” ground out Dean. “Fuckin’ spying on me.”

“Couldn’t help it,” rasped Sam.

It had been something both Gabriel and Rowena had berated him for constantly, how he couldn’t seem to go a day without thinking about or wanting to reach out to his brother. He had tried so hard over the years to resist the pull of Dean’s existence in the world but time and time again, like now, he failed miserably. The sound of their mingled breath was almost deafening to Sam’s ears and he leaned in to bury his face against Dean’s throat in order to distract himself from it.

“Wanted you so bad,” he murmured against his brother’s warm flesh.

Dean’s snorted chuckle had Sam lifting his head to look at his brother who was eyeing him smugly like he was just another in his long line of conquests.

“Liked what you saw that much, huh?” drawled Dean. “Well I’m here now though I can’t say I’m as impressed by you.”

Sam scowled down at his brother, his casual jibes beating against the shores of his heart though he tried to keep that closely guarded.

“You think you’ve had better?” he sneered.

“Think? I know I’ve had bedfellows with more game than you. Not exactly going to get a lot of action living like a monk out here in the woods, brother.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed and he leaned in closer to Dean’s face, the tip of his nose grazing against his brother’s.

“Just because I live alone doesn’t make me celibate.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Sam grit his teeth and he could feel the magic building inside him again, pulsing just beneath his skin and making the hairs on his arms stand on end. Before he could think twice about it, he dropped his hands from where he’d been clutching at Dean and jammed them under his brother’s ass, hoisting Dean off his feet and sending him scrambling for purchase against the trunk of the tree. He dug his fingers into the fabric covered flesh and muscle hard enough that he hoped they’d leave marks for all to see on his brother’s ass as he guided Dean’s legs to wrap around his waist bringing them in even closer contact. He rolled his hips, dragging his length along Dean’s purposefully, relishing the way Dean’s head fell back and his lips parted on a low, thick moan.

“You try my patience, brother,” he growled, nipping at Dean’s lip. “I swear to Odin you seem to have a death wish.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Sammy.”

“Don’t...don’t call me that.”

Sam brushed aside the dull ache in his chest at his brother using that old, familiar nickname after hearing so many other names fall from that same set of lips. He cut off any chance of protest from Dean by capturing his brother’s lips again in a bruising, almost brutal kiss. He allowed one hand to shift upward from grasping at Dean’s ass and tugged at his brother’s tunic instead, wanting to feel more than just fabric between them. He groaned into Dean’s mouth and devoured his brother’s moan in return as his hand slid under the linen cloth and found warm skin against his palm. He dug his fingers in knowing he’d likely leave little half crescents from his nails and more bruises if he was lucky, marking Dean as his.

“Mine,” he mumbled between heated kisses.

“Possessive...ah, fuck...possessive bastard.”

“Mmmm, you would be too if you’d seen what I saw some nights ago…”

He savored the sharp inhale of breath that accompanied Dean’s eyes snapping open and his cheeks turning the most delectable shade of red that made his brother’s freckles stand out even more than he remembered.

“Fuck...Sam...I...shit…”

Sam chuckled low and husky as he leaned in to nip and nuzzle at his brother’s collarbone, leaving yet another mark to be found by Dean’s traveling companions.

“Mmmm, imagine my surprise,” he drawled, his breath fanning over Dean’s skin. “But then I shouldn’t have been, not like it would be Cas’s first foxhole fuck.”

He felt Dean’s legs tighten at first where they were wrapped around him before one fell back to the ground with a low thud. He could feel the rigid set of his brother’s body and in that moment he worried he’d gone too far with teasing Dean. He inhaled sharply and let out a barely bitten off cry of mixed pain and pleasure as he felt his brother suddenly fist his hair and yank his head back.

“You wanna try that again?” growled Dean.

“Fuck...Dean...please…” panted Sam.

His cock throbbed against the soft wool of his trousers and he shifted his grip on Dean’s other leg, determined not to let his brother down completely lest he try to make an escape.

“You...and Cas?” ground out Dean.

“Fuck, yes,” admitted Sam. 

He let out a strangled moan and swayed toward Dean, his eyes squeezing shut as he felt his brother’s mouth seal itself against the throbbing pulse point in his neck. He could feel Dean’s teeth scrape against the skin then bite down to the point where Sam half expected him to draw blood. The most terrifying part though was the low, rumbling growl that seemed to vibrate not just Dean’s lips and throat but his whole body. For a brief moment he was almost paralyzed with the fear that he’d unleashed something terrible but any thought of that was driven from his mind when Dean released his throat and kissed his way fervently up to seal their lips together again.

“Did it arouse you?” rasped Dean between kisses. “To watch me fuck him.”

Sam couldn’t help the undignified whimper that broke from his lips as he and Dean continued to trade heated kisses. He could picture the scene Dean referred to in his mind and just how hard his cock had been while watching his brother spread Castiel out on the blankets and screw him senseless with the same firm length that was dragging against his own through the fabric of their trousers as they rut together. He’d had wet dreams involving his brother before but nothing, not even the milkmaids and barmaids he’d caught glimpses of his brother with, had compared to watching Dean make Castiel come undone there in the middle of the cold woods, firelight flickering against their sweaty skin. He’d watched his brother seduce their shared paramour, broad hands stroking over pale flesh, freckled shoulders looming over the smaller mage. Their soft bitten off moans and whimpers still echoed in his mind even now that they were here. His breath hitched and his hips jerked restlessly against Dean’s when his brother dragged him back to reality with a hard nip to his ear.

“Was he your first?” growled Dean.

“Yes.” admitted Sam hoarsely.

He wound up regretting admitting that when he felt his body sway back away from Dean’s embrace. He stagger stepped, trying to get his feet under him only to wind up falling to the forest floor with a low grunt. He blinked up at Dean somewhat dazedly at first then allowed his head to fall back when his brother practically pounced him, settling into the sprawled vee of his long legs.

“Mine,” snarled Dean.

Sam swallowed hard and licked at his bruised lips as his eyes met Dean’s dark, predatory gaze. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but his brother seemed more raw and primal even compared to how he’d been with Castiel all those nights ago. His brother had gained a presence that made something deep inside of Sam shudder with fear and arousal in the same breath. He watched Dean intently as his brother shifted his body lower, shoving at Sam’s tunic enough to expose the vulnerable flesh of his belly. Sam tugged his lower lip between his teeth and sucked in a breath when Dean nipped at the tender skin then lightly dragged his teeth over it much like when he’d bit at Sam’s neck.

“Dean…” he breathed.

“Yes, Sammy?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to admonish his brother for using that nickname but any ounce of ire fled the moment Dean’s hand came up to palm his length through his trousers. His hips rocked up slightly, chasing the sudden burst of warmth and friction that came with that touch. He couldn’t help the shudder that rolled through him as Dean’s palm smoothed all the way down to the tip and back nor did he miss the soft hum that escaped his brother’s lips.

“Impressive,” murmured Dean. “You might truly be my kin after all.”

If Sam hadn’t been so turned on he could barely see straight he might’ve smacked his brother for that. Instead he took advantage of Dean being distracted by his length and girth to lever himself up enough to roll his brother over so that he was the one pressing Dean down into a bed of leaves.

“Bastard!”

“Changed your mind about our familial bond already, brother?” teased Sam.

He dodged the way Dean lashed out at him which unbalanced him just enough for his brother to get the upper hand. He let out a grunt as his back connected with the ground once more, his shoulders pinned by his brother’s hands. He glared up at Dean’s gloating face then watched his brother’s eyes darken to an almost emerald hue as Dean’s head dipped down to reclaim his lips. He moaned thickly as his brother’s tongue invaded his mouth, stroking against his own and inviting it to play along. He gave as good as he got, slipping his tongue past Dean’s lips as well and tracing the fullness of his brother’s lips before nibbling at the tender flesh. He drew one of his legs up and curled it over Dean’s pressing his brother’s body more fully up against his own as he canted his hips up to grind his dick alongside Dean’s.

“Fuck me,” he murmured.

Dean’s growled groan reverberated against his flesh as his brother buried his face against the crook of his shoulder while his hips responded eagerly to Sam’s invitation.

“Do not tease me, brother,” he rasped.

“Not teasing,” responded Sam. “I know you travel prepared after watching you the other night.”

“Mmmmm, and you’re wagering on me still having enough leftover to fuck you into the ground like I did Cas?”

Sam couldn’t help the shudder that rolled through him raising goosebumps along his limbs at the low teasing purr of his brother’s words.

“Please, Dean…”

He was loathe to ease his hold on his brother but he allowed his leg to slide down at least enough for Dean to maneuver a hand into the small satchel on his belt. He drew out a small glass bottle and made a point of sitting it on Sam’s abdomen, a devilish little smirk twisting his lips. Sam half expected him to move to shuck down his own trousers and was caught off guard when Dean’s hands moved to address his trousers instead. He lifted his hips but didn’t spill the bottle on his belly, grimacing a bit at being poked by the leaves and twigs beneath them. He didn’t have time to focus on that slight discomfort for long though when his brother’s calloused fingers wrapped around his length which stood tall and firm. He moaned and squeezed his eyes shut as he fought the urge to let arousal overwhelm him from just that touch alone.

“Look at me,” demanded Dean.

Sam swallowed hard and forced his eyes open, his gaze drifting from Dean’s parted lips and dark eyes down to where his brother was stroking him and back.

“More,” he choked out huskily.

He licked his lips when he caught the way Dean’s cock twitched against the fabric of his trousers from just that simple plea.

“Fuck,” muttered Dean, reaching down with his free hand to palm himself through the linen fabric.

Sam longed to be able to touch Dean like that, to be the one giving him pleasure. He knew he likely wouldn’t get the chance though with as aroused as they both were as evidenced by the way his brother’s dick practically sprang free when Dean finally shoved his pants down enough to let it loose. He moaned thickly as Dean shifted deeper into the vee of his legs, guiding their cocks together once again now that the barriers were out of the way. He fought the urge to thrust against Dean, allowing his brother to do the work instead, curling his fingers around both lengths and stroking with almost painful slowness.

“Grown up so big, Sammy, so thick,” murmured Dean.

“Bigger than you?” he teased.

His head pressed back against the ground and sucked in a breath as Dean squeezed them both tight, thumb finding that sensitive spot just under the head and driving him almost mad with lust as revenge for his teasing.

“Don’t get cocky, brother.”

“N-noted.”

Sam’s heart twisted in his chest at the look Dean gave him in response, a sort of soft fondness that was hidden away almost too soon when his brother’s gaze wavered from his own. He knew he shouldn’t be allowing himself to be quite so open but being with his brother seemed to be opening doors in his heart and mind that he’d long since padlocked shut as protection against the danger lurking. 

_‘Stop being a maudlin fool, it’s just one night, one night and he’ll be gone again.’_

He reached up and clasped Dean by the back of the neck, dragging his brother’s mouth down to him once more, needing the distraction from his wayward heart. He was so caught up in kissing his brother that his whole body jolted at the first brush of Dean’s slick fingers against his hole.

“Sam, is this...are you alright?”

“Yes...I...yes.”

Sam licked at his lips and thought back to what he remembered from when he’d done this with Castiel. He knew what Dean was doing and where things were going but for his body this was unfamiliar territory which was the last thing he wanted his brother to know because the bastard would lord it over him to no end. He allowed his fingers to brush along the short hairs that arrowed down from where Dean’s hair was bound in a traditional tail and gently coaxed his brother’s head back down. His mouth wandered downwards, biting at Dean’s chin before kissing down his brother’s throat and sucking yet another mark into Dean’s flesh as his brother resumed teasing him with his fingers. He fought the urge to buck and writhe as Dean pressed not just one but two fingers inside, the stretch and burn making his whole body tense despite every effort he made not to.

“Fuck, so tight, Sam...if I didn’t know better I’d think you were still unspoiled after all.”

Sam buried his face against the warm flesh of his brother’s shoulder in a vain attempt to hide the way his face flushed even as a whine of both pain and pleasure broke from his lips.

“Dean, please...ah!”

His breath hitched and his toes curled as he felt Dean slowly begin to move his fingers, thrusting them inside gently but firmly, his thumb massaging Sam’s rim as the burn gradually began to fade. His head fell back from his brother’s shoulder when Dean started twisting his fingers slightly when thrusting in and grazing something that sent what felt like lightning racing through his veins. He couldn’t help the unmanly whimper that escaped him when Dean finally withdrew his fingers but thankfully his brother didn’t have a single snide remark to make about it.

“Breathe, Sammy,” he murmured.

Sam nodded, trying to inhale and exhale slowly and deeply despite the hiccupy breaths he ended up taking between. He vaguely caught the soft pop of the cork from the bottle of oil this time and groaned softly as he listened to Dean slick himself with the sweet smelling liquid within before something far thicker than fingers nudged at his hole. Broken and almost keening moans escaped his throat as Dean pressed in, slick fingers rubbing at his protesting flesh. His arms moved to wrap around his brother’s shoulders, his fingers digging into the freckled skin and clawing at it almost like an animal in heat when Dean’s body was finally fully nestled against his own. He felt something drip onto his brow, once then twice before he opened his eyes from where they’d slammed shut again to find rivulets of sweat dripping down Dean’s face.

“Sam...Sammy...need to...fuck.”

Sam shuddered and felt his muscles clench and release around the thick length that Dean had buried inside his ass drawing a low, broken moan from his brother’s lips. Words failed him at first so instead he grasped Dean’s bound hair and yanked firmly, relishing the growl that rose from his brother’s throat in response as well as the way Dean’s hips bucked against him.

“Move,” he choked out.

Dean’s breathless affirmation just before their mouths found one another again was music to his ears and he groaned against his brother’s lips as Dean drew his hips back just enough to press deep inside once again. Sam clutched at his brother even as they both grew slick with sweat from the vigor of Dean’s thrusts and his lips grazed against his brother’s in hot open mouthed kisses, devouring the low moans and heated grunts that broke from Dean’s throat. He allowed himself to get lost in the sensation of Dean’s body moving over him, let the heat of his lust entwine with the magic that was an ever present crackle under the surface of his skin. He could feel the way it was bleeding out from him in waves and rolling over them both, enfolding them in its embrace as they rut together on the forest floor. The leather thongs that held Dean’s hair bound broke loose as Sam clutched at it and let his brownish-blonde hair spill down over his brother’s broad shoulders which served to hide their faces from view. Sam allowed his long fingers to bury themselves in the surprising softness of his brother’s hair and couldn’t help but moan when he felt Dean do the same to him, cradling his head and clawing lightly at his scalp as their mouths met and parted somewhat haphazardly.

“Can’t...ah, fuck, Sam...I can’t…”

Sam could feel the way Dean’s hips stuttered against him, beginning to lose their rhythm, and knew the beast that his brother was battling against. He wrapped his legs around his brother’s as much as their trousers would allow and rocked his hips upward, meeting Dean thrust for thrust in equal heated measure. His cock brushed against the rough fabric of his brother’s tunic and he buried his face against Dean’s throat as the friction served to bring his own need closer to the surface.

“Don’t...don’t hold back,” he rasped against his brother’s ear, nipping lightly at the pierced lobe.

His words seemed to be all the permission Dean needed to let go and find his release deep inside of Sam. His brother’s long low groan reverberated through his body as Dean’s teeth bit down on his shoulder to leave yet another mark. This time was different though from when his brother had marked him before, the magic that’d been buzzing under his skin seemed to gather in that spot before cascading outward and suffusing his body with heat and pleasure. He squeezed his eyes shut, visions of wolves bounding through the forest against the backs of his eyelids. He saw pointed muzzles tipped up toward the cold moon and their howls sent shudders through him. He writhed against the ground, bucking upward only to be met with the solid weight of his brother pressing him back down. His mouth opened in a silent scream as the vision bled away leaving nothing but pure ecstasy in its wake. He vaguely registered the fact that he’d come when the brush of his length against Dean’s tunic started to feel painful as much as pleasurable. He gulped in air but didn’t open his eyes just yet, wanting to savor the combination of both his physical self and magical self being sated for once. He could feel Dean’s breath beating against the damp skin of his throat as they laid there together under the canopy of branches and stars.

“Sammy?”

Sam hummed softly in reply to his brother’s breathless inquiry and allowed his eyes to open slowly. His brow creased in confusion as he took in the shimmering aura that surrounded Dean and for a brief moment he would’ve sworn his brother’s eyes were more gold than green. He blinked a couple of times wanting to be sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

“Dean?”

Anymore questions he might have had faded from his mind when Dean’s lips found their way back to his own. He allowed himself to relax into his brother’s kiss, his hands stroking along the firm line of Dean’s back through his tunic. Sam wasn’t sure how long they laid there together, all he knew was that a part of him deep down didn’t want to let his brother go, didn’t want to shatter the peace he’d finally managed to find.

“So much time wasted,” mused Dean. “Wanted this...you...for so long.”

Sam swallowed hard and felt the tight sensation in his chest return as Dean’s words hit him like a punch to the gut. He wanted to return the feeling, wanted to keep his brother there with him and know that they’d be safe but he couldn’t be sure. If those monsters had been able to break Gabriel’s defenses and take down John Winchester what hope did he have of protecting Dean, protecting them both from whatever danger lurked beyond his wards. He shifted beneath Dean awkwardly, prompting his brother’s softened length to slip free and leave them both exposed to the air which had begun to cool significantly.

“I...you...should go,” he murmured. “Every moment we spend together is a risk.”

“A risk I’m willing to take,” responded Dean.

His brother leaned in to try and steal another kiss but Sam stopped him, gently grasping his chin and nudging him back.

“I’m serious, Dean.”

“And I’m not?” he scoffed. 

Sam ducked his head to avoid the accusation in his brother’s green eyes. He tugged at his clothes, needing to cover up as a way of dealing with just how exposed and vulnerable he felt.

“You don’t understand,” he murmured.

“What don’t I understand?”

“Just how dangerous this is, how dangerous I am.”

“I don’t think you’re dangerous.”  
A harsh bark of laughter broke from Sam’s lips and his head fell back as he thought back to when John had found him sitting in that field all those years ago.

“That’s funny, because Dad did. It’s why he banished me,” he sneered. “Caught me talking to a snake in the grass and letting it crawl up my arm.”

Sam pushed to his feet and stared his brother down as he straightened his clothes, practically daring him to retreat, to run away in fear just like his old man had when he’d sent the snake slithering toward him.

“He was afraid of me, afraid of what I could do, and he was right.”

He allowed the magic that had been messing with him all night with flow through him and felt how the whole earth beneath them seemed to shake just a little. He ran a hand down one of his arms which were ringed with the tattoo of a snake’s body making the ink shimmer in the darkness and shift against his flesh like a living, breathing thing.

“My mentor, Gabriel, tattooed these as a way for me to channel the serpent that lives in me,” he explained. “Left unchecked I’m no better than Nidhogg gnawing on the roots of the world.”

He gazed into Dean’s eyes and though he could see a small shred of fear in them, his brother was mostly unshaken by the display of power and for a moment Sam could’ve swore he saw an aura around his brother again. He was reminded of the wolves he’d seen when they’d climaxed especially as he watched Dean get to his feet and put himself to rights.

“So it wasn’t…”

“No.”

“Then why...why didn’t you ever seek me out? If you’ve been alive and playing with snakes and magic all this time why couldn’t you…”

“Because we’re dangerous to each other,” sighed Sam. “Because there’s magic in you too and if the two are harnessed together they could bring Ragnarok into being.”

He watched Dean’s eyes widen and realized his brother had been oblivious this whole time not only to the fact that Sam was still alive but to whatever lay in wait inside of him. He swallowed hard, then reached out hesitantly, lacing his fingers with Dean’s as he exhaled a slow, shuddering breath. He could feel the warmth of the magic surge through him at the connection, the snake manifesting itself as a ghost on the air coiling around their joined hands. He watched it weave back and forth into a figure eight around their hands, each pass growing tighter and more compact until it looked as though they were chained together by it. He caught the sharp inhale of breath from Dean but neither of them let go even as the heat between their hands seemed to grow.

“Give me your other hand,” rasped Sam.

He couldn’t blame Dean for the somewhat suspect glance sent his way before his brother reached out and took the hand that Sam offered. The heat that had been strong before seemed to envelope the both of them when flesh met flesh and Sam’s head snapped back from the rush of magic that surged between them. He tightened his grip on Dean’s hands, determined not to let go, and squeezed his eyes shut as he rode out the sudden onslaught. Eventually the heat and the rush ebbed away leaving his whole body trembling with the intensity of it.

“Sam?”

Sam opened his eyes slowly and exhaled gradually, taking in not only the sight of Dean standing in front of him gilded with sunlight but the fact that they were no longer in the forest. He looked around at the tall, wavering grass and blinked to make sure that it wasn’t just a dream. Deep laughter rolled toward them and Sam turned to look in the direction it came from, recognition hitting him harder than Thor’s hammer. His lips curved in a weak smile as he watched two young men come running over the crest of a nearby hill and down the other side. They both wielded weapons of wood not steel and bashed against each other’s shields until first one then the other broke from abuse. The taller of the two youths tackled the other sending them both rolling down into the grass, yelping and hollering the whole way down.

“Yield, brother!”

“Never!”

Sam watched the two boys wrestling in the grass and swallowed hard, knowing exactly what was coming next. He could almost feel the weight of the older, taller one landing on top of him, pinning him to the ground. His breath caught in his throat and a cold sweat broke across his brow as he glanced briefly toward Dean noting the way his brother’s lips were parted and sweat beaded across his brow as well.

“Easy there, Sammy.”

“Get off me, Dean.”

“Not until you yield and admit I’m the stronger brother.”

“There’s nothing you could possibly do to make me yield.”

“You sure?”

Sam could feel Dean’s grip on his hands tighten almost to the point of causing pain as together they watched the older boy lowered his head, his lips a hair's breadth away from his brother’s. He could hear Dean’s sharp inhale that practically echoed his own as the boy closed the distance and stole a kiss from his brother’s lips. It started out chaste and closed mouthed but once the boy realized that his brother wasn’t fighting him, it shifted and changed to something more raw and hungry.

“Dean! Sam! Where are you?”

Sam’s heart twisted in his chest as he watched the two boys spring apart like a pair of caught rabbits.

“Go...get back to the hut before he can see you,” said the younger boy. “He’ll never know you were gone.”

“Not without you, he’ll be so angry…what if he saw…”

“We can worry about that later; right now you need to go. He’ll be less angry if you’re there and not with me.”

Sam would’ve given almost anything in that moment not to have to watch the next part of the memory play out yet again but he couldn’t tear his eyes away as Dean, a much younger Dean than the one beside him, ran away back to their village in the hopes of avoiding John’s wrath. As Dean retreated, their father appeared over the hill still searching for the two of them and sending a much younger Sam scurrying deeper into the grass in an effort to hide himself. In his haste he almost stepped on a snake and it lashed out at him but failed to bite him.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

_“Perhaps you should be more careful then, youngling.”_

“Sam! Dean!”

“I’ll remember to do that, right now I wish I could hide as well as you do.”

Sam watched his younger self sitting down amongst the grass and carrying on a conversation with the snake he’d almost stomped on. He could still remember the feel of the snake’s scales as it’d crawled up his arm and the way it’d flicked its tongue out at him as it’d coiled around his bicep. His younger self was so enraptured by his new friend that he didn’t realize John was there until it was too late.

“I knew it, I’ve known it since the day I laid eyes on you in your crib that you couldn’t be my son,” growled John. “You’re not even human; you’re some dark elven changeling that killed my wife.”

“Father, I don’t...I don’t understand.”

“You’re a monster, Sam. A carrier of dark magic and I won’t have you polluting my house anymore.”

Sam averted his gaze as he heard the sound of John’s sword being unsheathed and he could hear Dean mutter something under his breath. He knew how the rest of this played out, how the snake that he’d befriended flung itself from Sam’s arm and bit down on John’s sword hand causing him to drop it rather than murder Sam.

_“Run, boy, run!”_

Those were the last words the snake had spoken before John had beheaded it as Sam had run away toward the woods in terror.

“If you ever darken my doorstep again, changeling, it’ll be you that’s missing a head.”

Those words continued to ring in Sam’s ears and his eyes were squeezed tight shut as he recalled the way he’d run as fast and as far as his coltish legs could carry him. He’d spent more than one night sleeping in the woods until he’d finally reached another village. He hadn’t stayed there though; the fear of John coming after him drove him far, far away from home.

“Sam? Sammy, are you alright?”

Sam opened his eyes slowly, the sound of his heart pounding in his chest replacing the echo of their father’s last words to him. He gazed down at his brother’s concerned expression and knew that the time had come to run away again.

“I’ve got to...I’ve got to go...I can’t…”

“No...Sam, don’t go, please.”

Sam swallowed hard and tried to focus anywhere on anything that wasn’t his brother. He reluctantly allowed Dean to pull him in close but when his brother moved to kiss him that was the last straw.

“No, Dean...this can’t...we can’t…”

“Yes, we can,” retorted Dean. “Whatever’s out there, we’ll face it head on, together.”

Sam shook his head vehemently and pried himself out of Dean’s embrace despite how badly he wanted to remain wrapped in his brother’s arms.

“No, I won’t risk it, I can’t risk you.”

He didn’t want to do it but he knew that Dean would just follow him again if he didn’t do something to make him stay back. He summoned up his magic and used it to knock Dean back hard enough to send him sprawling on the ground. What he hadn’t anticipated was how quickly Dean recovered from the blow and lunged back at him, a low growl rising from his throat. Sam sucked in a breath as Dean collided with him and he could see that his brother’s eyes weren’t green anymore but gold with a narrow pupil and his brother’s lips curled in a snarl.

“Oh no…” he breathed.

In his brother's eyes he could see that all his efforts over the years had been in vain. In one night, one moment of weakness, he'd brought the prophecy he’d been hiding from into existence, Ragnarok was coming.


End file.
